


Shackled

by ellay_gee



Series: Whump/Inktober 2019 [10]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Kidnapping, Whumptober 2019, Y'all remember that or nah?, heart racing adventure, obstacle courses, stole this from an episode of The Real Adventures of Johny Quest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 04:55:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21155945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellay_gee/pseuds/ellay_gee
Summary: When Gladio and Prompto go drinking after a night of fun they get more than they bargained for.





	Shackled

**Author's Note:**

> iiiiiii'mmmmmmlaaaaaate. I know. Sorry.

**Last night.**

“Let’s go to _the Arena_, he said. It will _be fun_, he said.” Prompto’s high-pitched mimicking tone echoed in the chamber in which he and Gladio were now the last remaining occupants.

“How was I supposed to know that we were gonna get roofied and kidnapped?” Gladio asked defensively, glaring down at his slighter companion.

“Well maybe if you weren’t busy flirting with everything in sight—“

“Well, maybe if _you_ paid attention to something besides your damn phone—“

A resounding squeak stopped their mini-squabble, and Gladio moved to stand in front of Prompto as the Ringmaster sent in a minion to usher them through the now-open gates.

“You ready, blondie?” He growled, keeping his eyes on the short, greasy man who gestured for them to get a move on with the end of his rifle.

“Yeah, I guess.” Prompto sighed, standing up from the little bench he’d been sitting on.

“Let’s get this shit over with.”

They stepped out into the light of the UnderRing to the boos and jeers of a rough crowd.

* * *

**Four hours earlier. **

Prompto and Gladio had made a few bets at the Arena and cleaned up rather nicely. They were celebrating their win when they were visited by the sexiest bartender that Prompto had ever seen. Drinks were laid on the counter, and a conversation was struck up between the three of them—one that Prompto quickly ducked out of in favor of his phone as it became more and more obvious that he was the third wheel in a conversation that was definitely going to lead to sex.

No, he’d leave the flirting to Gladio, who would undoubtedly score and tease him about it later. The shield was known to get laid pretty much anywhere they went, and though Prompto would be lying if he said he didn’t get jealous from time to time, he couldn’t really blame anyone involved.

He was perfectly happy to play a few rounds of the new Justice Monsters mobile tactical game. That was, of course, until his screen started getting fuzzy. And the bar was a little warped. Why did everything sound so garbled?

….wait a minute, why was he on the floor? Who was that man…? Why did he…did he…what was going…? Where? Gladio….?

Prompto’s vision quickly tunneled down to nothing and the last thing he heard was a loud thump and a curse somewhere off to his left.

* * *

**Just before dawn.**

“Ladies and gentlemen!” The Ringmaster—a tall man who was excruciatingly thin and wore some sort of mismatching circus gear—cried to the crowd. He waved about to silence the boos and hisses, haggard face folding into a wicked grin. “We have new challengers for the Course of Death!”

“Seriously? That’s the worst name, ever. Extremely uncreative.” Prompto whispered to Gladio, who snickered.

“Oh ho, such misplaced bravery! Such hubris! To think this Challenger thinks he’s capable of conquering the unconquerable!”

Gladiolus glowered at the thin man. “I have no desire to play whatever stupid game you and your _fans_,” he spat the word, sneering at the crowd, “are trying to play. But let’s just say it’d be in your best interest to let us go and not look back.” 

Behind him, a sudden yelp from his companion had him whirling around to see two guards who now had the gunman on his knees, the barrel of a shotgun buried painfully into his back.

“If you’ll not play, we’ll just execute you both, starting with the little one there.” The slow smile of the Ringmaster never lit his beady eyes, and the cheers of the blood thirsty crowd had Gladio’s stomach twisting.

An indignant “_hey_” from Prompto got cut off by one of the guards ramming the barrel of his shotgun into the young man’s back deeper still.

The big warrior swallowed hard, weighing his options. The others surely have noticed their absence by now. Iggy was smart, he’d figure out something was amiss.

Probably not in time, though.

Face set in a grimace of resignation, Gladio sneered at the Ringmaster. “Fine, but when we win whatever ridiculous challenge this is, you let us go.”

“Oh, you certainly have balls to be making demands in your position.”

Gladio huffed in response. “Look at me. Do you really think anything you’ve got stands a chance?”

The Ringmaster looked ready to retort, but he stopped himself and pressed a finger to his ear. He grinned wolfishly at Gladio. “Seems like the betting windows are reporting some high stakes, Challenger. I’ll accept your condition, but there’s one more stipulation.”

The spindly little man gestured to the guards behind Prompto, who manhandled him to his feet and brought him forward to stand next to the warrior. Gladio gave the slighter man a quick once-over, nodding when he felt satisfied at the other’s state.

The Ringmaster addressed the crowd, half turning away from Gladio and Prompto. “We have a treat this evening!”

Another guard appeared, this one holding a set of shackles with a three-foot chain between the cuffs.

“Usually, the two Challengers will be loosed upon the field separately to make it interesting.”

The guard quickly attached one cuff to the warrior’s right ankle, and the other to the gunman’s left.

“But you two? You have to make it through _together_.” The RingMaster laughed, grinning as the crowd exploded into applause. “That way,” he continued in a snide aside to the two men, “when one of you dies, the other will have to drag his corpse along if he wants to make it through.”

* * *

“_You have thirty minutes to complete every obstacle. You may not skip a single one. If you do, even if you are to make it to the end, we will kill you. If you by some miraculous turn of events make it, we will let you go._”

* * *

Their first two obstacles were a piece of cake. Crownsguard training was no joke, so even tied together they were able to make it over the rope wall and through the mud pit.

The crowd was not pleased.

So, they released the dogs. This cheered the crowd considerably.

Prompto was having a hard time not flat-out panic-running. Though Gladio was fast, he wasn’t built for distance. They had to keep pace with each other; any misstep could result in disaster.

Their destination was a ladder that went up to a platform about twenty feet in the air which had a long plank suspended over a field of spikes. This plank reached another platform, which led to a fireman’s pole that would drop them in waters that were undoubtedly infested with _something_.

This was all Prompto’s worst nightmare. He had a brief moment to reflect as he and Gladio reached the ladder and the big warrior leapt at it, dragging Prompto behind him. The sudden jerk in momentum brought them both tumbling down to the ground.

“What the fucking fuck?!” Gladio seethed as he assessed the situation from all fours. The dogs were gaining on them quick. There were about fifteen in total, and not a one of them could be considered “small”.

Prompto scrambled to his feet, whirling just in time to do a little hop over the chain and kick the first oncoming dog right in the face.

Wasting no time, Gladio ripped the bottom rung off the wooden ladder and wielded it against the two largest dogs who were getting too close for comfort, while behind him Prompto yelped and jerked and cussed and kicked.

They managed to make the dogs fall back, finally able to start their awkward scramble up the ladder and to the platform.

Gladio groaned as Prompto turned a weird shade of green.

“You’re going to have to get over your godsdamned fear of heights. There’s no time for this, kid!”

“Fuck, I know I _know._” The blonde bit his bottom lip, pushing himself out onto the narrow plank, carefully sliding along.

Gladio took up the slack of the chain and followed after, muttering words of encouragement. The narrow bit of wood bowed beneath them and Prompto froze. Gladio, who was _not having this shit_ did the only thing he could think of; he scooped the blonde up in an awkward bridal carry and sashayed his way over the spikes and to the other side.

This, too, displeased the crowd.

“You ok, kid?” He barked at Prompto as he dropped him back on his feet.

Landing on the platform with a little wobble, Prompto quickly nodded. “Yeah big guy. Let’s—“

But Gladio never got to hear the end of that sentence.

_Boom!_

_ Crack!_

**darkness** _._

* * *

Prompto had barely gotten his heart back under control when something exploded beneath the platform, ramming Gladio headfirst into the support beam. The blonde didn’t have much time to react, however, as the entire structure began to tilt towards the man-made swamp-pool below.

“nononono—“ Prompto scrabbled against the wooden planks for purchase, but found none. His stomach dropped before he did, spilling him and the 250+ pounds of deadweight that was Gladio into the brackish waters.

It was surprisingly deep, and for a moment Prompto panicked as Gladio dragged him down

down

down

down

until they were resting against an expanse of slimy silt. Prompto struggled to pull Gladio’s body back to the surface, but it was a losing battle. Having very little fat took away a lot of the big warrior’s buoyancy, and with him being unconscious….

Oh, Astrals, they were going to die right here in this pond.

Reigning in his emotions once more, Prompto wedged himself under Gladio as best he could and launched them towards the surface.

And they might have made it, too—

—if not for that Malboro.

* * *

**Today.**

“….and I came to just as Prompto was tossing some thrown-together moltov cocktail at the fucker. I remember watching it burn while blondie over there did his stupid victory ritual.”

Ignis and Noctis exchanged glances.

“You mean to tell us,” Ignis began, voice haughty dripping with more than a little venom, “that you two were _kidnapped_ and forced to run some sort of weird obstacle course of doom—“

“_Death.”_ Prompto quietly supplied from his place perched upon the end of his bed. He snapped his lips shut at the slight glare from the advisor.

“Obstacle course of _death_, and that Gladio almost died of a concussion and/or drowning, and that Prompto set fire to a Malboro of all things—“

“Hey,” Prompto whined, “I can do things.”

“—but yet you both come back without a scratch on you?”

“And you don’t remember how you got back to the bar…?” Noctis supplied.

“The deal was that they would let us go if we made it to the end. I guess we made it.” Gladio shrugged, muttering something about potions and assholes.

“_I guess we made it_.” Ignis said it somehow both with incredulity and mirth.

“Yeah, Iggy and I were up all night worried about you—“

“—you slept in till noon.” The advisor scoffed.

“_Fine_,” Noctis glared, “Iggy was up all night worried about you.

Prompto’s eyes widened, a gleam of desperation lighting them. “But…but we were _kidnapped!_ He _should_ have been worried about us!” He sputtered, flailing his hands uselessly in the air.

“Passed out in an alley drunk, is more like! I can smell the alcohol from here. You both reek of the stuff.” Ignis pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Just,” he sighed, “just go take a shower, the both of you. We have a hunt to get to.”

“But...but--"

"C'mon, blondie. Let's just do as the man says." Gladio rolled his eyes, clapping his hand on Prompto's shoulder.

“Whatever am I going to do with them?” Ignis asked Noctis, who grunted in reply.


End file.
